They Had Each Other
by rabbitheartedgirl88
Summary: 'She knew there were no words that could reach him right now so she tried offering comfort as best she could.' Just a little oneshot about Daryl's return to the prison after Merle's death.


She was in the cellblock, feeding Judith, when Daryl returned. He was alone and covered in blood. She could guess what happened. His face was hard and expressionless as he stomped up to his perch, not even looking in her direction. If Carol had learned anything over the past year, it was that Daryl liked to be alone when he was upset, needed time to process the event, and then tuck it away. She looked down at Judith's tiny hands gripping hers, attempting to hold the bottle herself. Carol smiled sadly at the infant, knowing this was going to be a rough few days for Daryl. She just prayed that he wouldn't shut down or seclude himself completely.

She silently let the tears fall, mourning a man she hardly knew. Merle Dixon was a hard person to like, difficult to be around. But he was Daryl's brother and that meant something. Carol knew that Merle loved his brother dearly, he just had a strange way of showing it. She wiped at her cheeks before any of her tears could land on Judith. Carol just needed to give him some time, to let him grieve in private.

The evening glow gave way to the blackness of night, everyone going their separate ways. Daryl hadn't left the perch since returning and no one wanted to intrude, they knew he wouldn't appreciate the hovering, so they left him to it. Glenn and Maggie had gone on watch, Beth and Herschel already asleep since they would be relieving them in the early dawn hours. Carl held Judith and listened to Rick's tales of his younger days, enjoying his father's attention. Carol was sitting on the lower bunk of her cell, trying her best to alter a pair of pants for Herschel, sewing by hand was tedious but she didn't want him tripping over the unoccupied pant leg. She was so lost in her thoughts, worrying about Daryl, that she hadn't noticed him approach the entryway of her cell.

He stood, watching her in the dimly lit cell, waiting for her to look up before entering. He was a little embarrassed to admit that he just didn't want to be alone anymore, he wanted her company, needed it even. Since returning, his mind wouldn't quit, wouldn't let him forget Merle's dead eyes or the way he had stumbled toward him, uncoordinated and lifeless. Daryl had always been proud of his self-reliance, proud of the fact that he could make it through anything on his own. But he was beginning to question if he could make it through this. When Merle went missing in Atlanta, Daryl still had hope to cling to, knew there was a chance of seeing his brother again. This was different, Merle was gone for good, he'd seen to that himself, like Merle would have wanted.

Tears were stinging his eyes again, casting the cell in blurred shadows. He needed Carol. Needed her to make him feel less alone, needed her reassurances. His chest was tight and his breathing ragged, he wasn't used to the emotions swelling within him, it was overwhelming.

Before Carol could even register that he was in her cell, she felt him slam into her, knocking her back slightly before she steadied herself. He was kneeling on the ground in front of her, arms wrapped tightly around her middle, head against her chest. She quickly realized his short, rapid breaths were actually sobs he was trying to contain, and she felt a warm wetness seep through her shirt. So shocked at his abrupt entrance and unusual display of emotion she was unsure of what to do, she opened her mouth but words never came. She settled for rubbing slow, soothing circles across his shoulders and back, occasionally letting her hands drift up toward his neck, running soft hands through dirty hair. Daryl continued to shake against her slight frame as she rocked him gently, whispering nonsensically. She knew there were no words that could reach him right now so she tried offering comfort as best she could, letting her hands trace empathies across his broad torso.

They stayed like that for what could have been hours, Carol never pausing in her ministrations. After an unknown span of time, Daryl's breathing evened out, tears rolling down his rough cheeks in less frequent streams. Carol urged him up to sit beside her, finally getting a chance to look him over. He still had his brother's blood speckled across his face and chest, his hands were covered in dark blood and dirt. He hadn't changed his clothes either, they were caked in the thick, dead blood and red Georgia soil.

She rose slowly, not wanting to startle him, her voice soft, "Daryl…I'll be right back, I'm just going to get a few things so we can clean you up."

Carol wasn't sure if he even heard her, he sat stock still, eyes unfocused, staring blankly ahead. She went to retrieve some soap and water, and cleaner clothes for him to put on. He was in the exact same position when she returned, his red watery eyes never meeting hers. She wasn't sure how he was going to react but it wasn't doing him any good to sit there covered in Merle's blood. She approached carefully, moving slowly, keeping her voice low, "Daryl, I'm gonna clean you up, ok?"

No reaction, no hint of her words even penetrating his sorrowful thoughts, "I need to take your jacket and shirt off…alright?"

Still nothing, she proceeded with caution, movements slow and deliberate. She started on his jacket, carefully unbuttoning it and pushing it from his shoulders and then repeating the process with his shirt. Carol paused to gage his reaction before starting in on the final layer, he seemed to accept what she was doing so she reached for the hem of his dingy, grey wife-beater. He allowed her to continue, even raising his arms so she could pull it off before dropping heavily back into his lap.

She dipped the cloth into the cool water and started in on his face, wiping away at the dried blood. He gave a shaky gasp but said nothing so she continued. Carol meticulously worked her way down, needing to change the water by the time she reached his chest. She was glad for the break though, his silence was exhausting, she would rather him yell and break things, anything would be better than the quiet, lost look on his face. But he needed her right now, that much was obvious, so she gathered herself and returned to the cell.

Another shuddering breath as Carol's hands reached his chest, using long, gentle strokes to clean away the blood and dirt. Tears were welling up in her eyes as she drug the cloth over a particularly vicious looking scar, this man had suffered enough, how much more could he take. She sniffled quietly, not wanting to draw attention, and continued working her way across his strong chest. She was startled by a hand reaching out and gripping her hip tightly, she looked down to find Daryl's red rimmed eyes staring back at her intently. His thumb was making small circles over the dip of her pelvis, like he needed a more physical confirmation of her presence. Carol continued looking into his pain stricken face, giving him a soft, reassuring smile. He gave a single nod and removed his hand, she returned to her task.

He had helped Carol through the pain of Sophia's death, and she would help him get through this. They had both lost everything in this new world but they still had each other. And maybe that was enough.


End file.
